


Hearts Don't Break Around Here

by Lady_in_Red



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 17:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11257221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: Ginny decides she wants to have a baby, and Mike decides the time is right for other changes in their relationship too.Follow-up to Puppy Love.





	Hearts Don't Break Around Here

Mike Lawson had spent a lot of hours in doctors’ offices, but until recently none of them had practically wallpapered their hallways with pictures of babies. No, not just babies. Families: disheveled new moms with bright smiles and squalling red-faced bundles, disgruntled kids posing beside infants, and everywhere smiling fathers holding newborns. 

His teammates never would have believed it, but Mike Lawson used to think about having kids a lot. When he was a child, he swore he’d never make his kids move around the way he did. They would have friends who lasted longer than one baseball season. They wouldn’t have to leave half their belongings behind every time they moved. They wouldn’t need to crash with friends just to stay in the same high school all four years. 

But kids were far in the future. Mike was too focused on making it to the show to take any chances, especially after one of his teammates knocked up a girl their senior year. That guy ended up working at Best Buy while Mike was drafted and moved to Iowa to start working his way through the minors. In those years, Mike had his choice of willing women in his bed whenever he wanted. And every time, he rolled on a condom and thanked God for another hour of consequence-free pleasure. 

Early in his marriage, he and Rachel talked about children, daydreamed about the family they’d have someday. But someday never came. Mike told himself he wouldn’t be a good father anyway. He lacked patience; he yelled too much. holding his teammates’ tiny, fragile, sometimes smelly babies occasionally was enough. He told himself he was lucky his time was entirely his own. 

And then Ginny came along. Ginny Baker was the only reason he was here. She put the same big dumb smile on his face as the guys in all those photos in the hallway. 

Mike doubted any of those guys smiled much when they were in his shoes, opening a door at the end of the hallway and locking it behind him. The dimly-lit room held a big leather easy chair next to a side table with Kleenex, a pump bottle of lube, and a stack of magazines. Across from the chair was a television. The whole room smelled like disinfectant. 

Mike set the cup he’d been given down on the table and sat gingerly in the chair. A stormfront coming in off the Pacific was playing havoc with his knees today. He could hear people talking out in the hall, which made him less than eager to turn on the television. Maybe he’d just keep the sound turned off. Not like it mattered. They all knew what he was doing in here. Mike glanced at the magazines, but those hadn’t held much appeal since he was a teenager. He peered at the remote, looking for the mute button. 

The TV clicked on and displayed a menu of options he’d certainly never find on the TVs playing the news out in the waiting room. Terrible porn titles, each one more ludicrous than the next. He was still annoyed that he had to “provide his sample” at the doctor’s office. Last time, they’d been at home, Ginny whispering filthy things in his ear while she jerked him off. This time, he got “Sexretaries 3” or “Hard Workouts.” And those were the best of the Viagra-powered and massively-augmented options.  

Mike pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text.  _ This is not how I pictured conceiving our kid.  _ No, he’d pictured long nights with his delicious, passionate wife (he’d always thought she would be by then). Instead, a middle-aged woman in a white coat had asked him how many sexual partners he’d had, how often he masturbated, and if he’d ever had a sperm count done. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d frowned severely when he mentioned all the ice baths he’d taken during his playing days, the long hours spent squatting in snug pants and an athletic cup.  

Almost immediately, Ginny replied.  _ Your part is a lot easier than mine. _

Ginny wasn’t playing fair. When he’d allowed himself to think about it, Mike had always figured they’d wait until Ginny retired to have kids. The average MLB player lasted five and a half seasons, but that stat excluded pitchers, who tended to get injured more often. Ginny was already in her fourth season, but she was in no way average. If she played ten years, Ginny would only be 33. Sure, Blip’s boys would be in college while Mike was changing diapers, but he didn’t mind. 

And then Ginny had gotten hurt trying to avoid a tag at second. Torn ACL, out for the rest of the season and it was only May. The night after her surgery, Ginny had woken him up in the middle of night and whispered, “I want to have a baby. Now.” 

She was 27, in excellent health, and they could start trying immediately, she’d said. In theory she could deliver before Spring Training and be back on the mound as early as next May. It sounded impossibly soon.

Mike had woken in the morning half-certain he’d dreamed the whole thing, particularly since later in the night he had dreamed of Ginny playing with a little girl with puffball pigtails and dimples. But he hadn’t dreamed it, because by the time he’d made it downstairs to cook breakfast Ginny was already in the living room talking on the phone with her gynecologist’s office. Considering she was on crutches and Mike usually carried her down the stairs, that was unexpected.

She’d had her IUD taken out two days later (being famous certainly helped when it came to getting appointments), and Mike figured that was that. Maybe she’d buy some of those ovulation predictors Voorhies had complained about so bitterly, since for a few months his entire sex life had revolved around the results of those tests. But Dusty and his wife had a toddler to show for their efforts. 

Less than a week later Mike had come home from the grocery store to find Ginny and Evelyn frowning at a calendar, books strewn all over their coffee table. Ginny had looked up at him and said they needed to see a fertility doctor. Mike had wanted to argue, but he’d seen that determined look in her eye many times before, and arguing with her would only lead to suffering. 

Looking back, he really should have known that driven, goal-oriented Ginny wouldn’t be content to just let nature take its course. And in theory, he understood her reasoning. The faster they conceived, the less time she spent on the DL. In practice, Mike was about to jerk off into a specimen cup while watching uninspiring porn. Somehow he’d hoped for something a bit less clinical. 

It wasn’t as if they weren’t still trying the old-fashioned way. Ginny’s knee brace and limited weight-bearing ruled out some positions, but needing to get a little creative wasn’t at all a mood-killer for Mike. The only mood-killer in their lives liked to nose open the bedroom door and jump on the bed at inopportune times or bark and try to join in the wrestling when Mike and Ginny got a little carried away on the couch. Once Chewie had shoved her cold nose between Mike’s legs during sex. The noise he’d made started Ginny laughing and she hadn’t stopped for at least ten minutes. Not exactly his finest moment.

Mike’s phone buzzed.  _ Need help?  _ With a winking emoji blowing a kiss. 

Mike glanced up at the screen. An awkward threesome on a desk or conference table, women pretending to be barely-legal girls in knee-high athletic socks, or Ginny. No comparison. The on-screen offerings didn’t even inspire a twitch of interest, but the idea of Ginny’s talented hands helping him out sent his blood flowing in the right direction.

_ Come in here _ , he typed. 

_ Can't. Sorry. Waiting for my exam. _

Another thought to kill the arousal she’d inspired. Ginny had laughingly told him all about the dildo-like probe the doctor used for internal ultrasounds. It was even covered with a condom. She hadn’t laughed yesterday when he accidentally touched the bruise on her stomach where the doctor had given her a hormone shot to trigger ovulation. Yet another thing Mike had never thought about and really wished he didn’t know. 

Mike turned off the TV.  _ Call me? _ he typed. He didn’t need phone sex. If he closed his eyes and focused on her voice, Ginny could recite baseball stats and it would still arouse him. All the rest of this stuff was just background noise. All he needed or wanted was her.

His phone rang immediately, and Ginny’s face lit up on his screen. He loved that picture: Ginny slightly sunburned and grinning, the Mediterranean spread out behind her. Their first vacation together, a week in the French Riviera, where few people recognized her and almost everyone left them alone.

Mike answered the phone and was greeted by Ginny’s quickened breathing in his ear.

“This is weird, right?” she said in a rush. “I mean, we might make our baby today and you’re not even in the room.”

“It’s a little weird,” he admitted, disappointed but not surprised to realize her breathing was anxiety not arousal. “This is your play, rookie. We can walk out of here and do this the old-fashioned way, or stay and finish this. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” 

On her end of the line, Mike heard Ginny going through one of the breathing exercises her therapist recommended. “Could you come in here when you’re done?” she asked.

“I don’t see why not.” He wasn’t particularly eager to watch whatever the doctor would do to her, but if she needed him, he’d be there.

“Okay, good,” she said with obvious relief. Ginny hesitated. “How are you doing?”

Mike shrugged, realized she couldn’t see it. “Having a little trouble finding the mood. Don’t worry about it.”

He heard voices on the other end of the line. “I have to go, Mike. Just, uh, think about Fiji.” 

The line went dead, and Mike put down the phone. 

Fiji. Last winter. Two weeks in a bungalow right on the ocean, with water so clear they could see the fish swimming in it. Completely alone on their own tiny private island. Once he’d convinced Ginny to spend an entire day naked. 

He could definitely work with that. 

* * *

 

That evening, Mike helped her out of his car at Petco Park. Ginny had reluctantly spent the afternoon resting at home, curled up in their bed with Chewie, the 70 pound Labradoodle that still thought she was a tiny lapdog.

“I thought you said we were going out to dinner,” she said, confused and definitely annoyed. Ginny was stunning, as usual, her crutches and knee brace not remotely distracting Mike from the way her curly hair cascaded over her shoulder and her strappy sundress floated over every toned, delicious inch of her.

"We’re out, and we’re going to have dinner,” he said cryptically. 

Evelyn’s text twenty minutes ago assured him everything was ready, but Mike couldn’t relax. He’d been nervous all afternoon, since he’d sat beside Ginny in that doctor’s office, her legs up in stirrups on an exam table while the doctor did something Mike refused to watch between Ginny’s thighs. He’d focused on her face, her jaw set and determined, her hand clutching his so hard he could feel the bones grinding together. And he’d known exactly what he needed to do.

Evelyn didn’t particularly like his plan. Not romantic enough, she’d said, and she didn’t even know his entire plan. She probably suspected, based on the bigger, fancier ideas she’d peppered him with before agreeing to do as he asked. Mike had begged, really, because frankly he’d needed her, especially since he’d been stuck at home with Ginny and Evelyn was already at the ballpark watching an afternoon game. 

A golf cart driven by a familiar member of the security team pulled up behind Mike’s car, and reluctantly Ginny got in with her crutches. She chatted with the security guy all the way through the empty parking garage and through the bowels of the ballpark, getting the latest gossip. She was smiling when he dropped them off at an elevator. Mike tried not to be annoyed that someone else had inspired that smile. 

“Where are we going?” Ginny asked as Mike punched the button to take them up to the suite level. 

“You’ll see.” He hoped. So far everything was going like clockwork. Sure, he owed a few of the facilities management guys and today’s security team some money, but they were here, after hours, just like he’d asked. 

The lights were dimmed on the suite level. If Mike was the kind of man to pray, he’d be praying now. Ginny followed behind him, uncertain and a little ungainly on her hated crutches. 

The door of the owners’ suite opened easily, and Mike peeked inside before Ginny caught up to him. Evelyn had asked him to just trust her with this part, which wasn’t at all easy for him. Mike expected enough candles to burn down the ballpark, rose petals and French food, a white tablecloth and champagne.

He was right about the tablecloth, and the one table set up by the railing to overlook the moonlit ballpark did have a single fat white candle casting a flickering glow. A cart nearby held two covered dishes and an ice bucket with a bottle sticking out of it. 

Mike held back and let Ginny go ahead as she maneuvered her crutches through the luxurious suite’s large seating area, a table lamp providing just enough light for her to avoid tripping on anything. In here the bigwigs could sit on overstuffed leather couches and watch the game on a massive flatscreen instead of walking a few feet to the rows of stadium seating actually overlooking the field. 

She looked at the table, then back at him incredulously. “Did you do all this?”

Mike shrugged. “Evelyn helped.”

Ginny nodded and swiped a hand over her lips like she always did when she was nervous. “You know it’s too early to celebrate, right? It might not work.”

Mike pulled out a chair for her, and set her crutches aside once she was seated. “And it might,” he countered. “You going to let me romance you a little or not?”

She rolled her eyes and smiled, biting her lip to hide it. “You are such a cheeseball.”

Mike shrugged, but he couldn’t help wondering if maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. “Evelyn thought it was dumb too.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say it was dumb.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Mike, I like it. Really.”

He searched her gaze, not sure if she was just trying to make him feel better. No, she looked genuinely touched by his efforts, which only reminded Mike that he didn’t do things like this. Big, romantic gestures weren’t in his wheelhouse, and it had never seemed to bother Ginny. They were homebodies, for the most part. They preferred not to live their lives documented on Instagram, and while the fans had gotten better about not approaching her, they still took pictures. A lot of pictures. Hell, the Instagram account Ginny had jokingly set up for Chewie had a million followers.

Mike ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Then let’s see what’s for dinner,” he suggested, moving the warm dishes over to the table. 

“You don’t know?” Ginny’s brow knit in confusion.

“Evelyn kind of took over.” That was the only explanation, really. 

Ginny laughed. “Of course, she did.” 

Mike pulled the covers off their dishes and set them aside. For a few seconds he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Fish tacos? Mike asked for a special meal and Evelyn gave them fish tacos? He looked up at Ginny, prepared to apologize, but her eyes were shiny and she was smiling.

“Our first date,” Ginny said shakily, and Mike realized that he owed Evelyn big time. 

After getting together Thanksgiving weekend, they’d waited a few weeks before going out together in public. Mike had been wary of the media attention they would get, the speculation and the judgement that Ginny would face. And he wanted to be sure that whatever Ginny felt for him didn’t burn out as quickly as their relationship had heated up. For a Cooperstown-bound All-Star catcher, he wasn’t exactly a prime catch: broken down, retired, and divorced with a reputation for fucking every groupie who smiled his way. Ginny could have anyone. During his last season, she’d briefly dated a football player who’d just won Dancing with the Stars, a good guy who Mike had nonetheless hated. 

When Mike and Ginny were finally ready to go public, they’d notified their agents and the front office so they wouldn’t be surprised, and then one of Amelia’s minions had booked them a table at the Marine Room in La Jolla. They’d been recognized immediately, their starstruck waiter tweeting the news even as he hurried off to fetch their drinks. The menu was almost all seafood, of course since the restaurant was so close to the water that one of its claims to fame was that the waves often splashed the windows, and all expensive, with detailed descriptions of the trendy, fancy ingredients dressing up the fish. 

It had taken longer than it should have for Mike to realize how uncomfortable Ginny was. Her gaze darted unhappily from the pretentious menu to the other diners staring at them and whispering, some not-so-stealthily taking photos. When the waiter returned, Mike had ordered an appetizer, crab cakes with acorn noodles (he remembered it because he wondered why anyone would think to turn acorns into noodles), and asked if she minded turning their dinner into just a drink and appetizers.

Ginny had beamed at him in obvious relief, and less than an hour later they’d been cruising north up the highway. Mike had taken her to the San Elijo campground at Cardiff, where they were spectacularly overdressed, and drunk Coronas with lime while eating fish tacos from a casual little place with tables outside overlooking the beach.

And that was what Evelyn had brought them. She’d even gotten their orders right, which was a little creepy but Mike was happy to roll with it. Because Ginny was smiling, all dimples and bright eyes glowing in the candlelight. 

Mike finally let himself relax just a little. He took a seat and pulled the wine out of the ice bucket. White wine, not champagne. Evelyn knew better than that, so he’d have to trust that she knew what kind of wine went with fish tacos too. Mike would kill for a beer, but he opened the bottle and poured them each a glass.

Ginny looked at him speculatively. “So why here?” she asked just when his nerves were starting to ramp up again.

That was easy. “This is where we started.” Mike had wanted to be down on the field, but they would have had to turn on the lights and get permission from the groundskeepers. Not exactly lowkey. Plus Evelyn had pointed out that people in the surrounding buildings would be able to see them. 

“Not my best day,” Ginny pointed out. She took a bite of her fish taco and moaned in pleasure as she chewed. Mike went immediately and uncomfortably hard. Probably best they weren’t out in public right now. 

Mike gulped his wine. Yep, he definitely wished that was beer. “Come on, rookie, you can admit it. You took one look at this package and knew we’d end up here.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, when you were slapping my ass and telling the guys I was nothing but a publicity stunt, I was totally thinking I should move into your house and have your baby.” 

Mike winced. He tried not to remember that part, which he didn’t even know she’d heard until much later. Usually he laughed it off, made a joke or offered to sell his house, but not tonight. “I was an ass.” 

“I’m not perfect either,” she reminded him.

“I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to object to that.” Rachel had said things like that often, running herself down so he would compliment her.

Ginny rolled her eyes and took another bite of her taco. “Perfect is overrated,” she said as soon as her mouth wasn’t full. 

Once he stopped worrying, though, dinner was pretty damn perfect. For a few minutes, Ginny seemed to forget the stress and anxiety she’d been carrying around, the pressure she put on herself both to rehab her knee and to get pregnant when it would least impact the team. 

When their plates were empty, Ginny eyed him with a fond, soft smile and said, “I really needed this tonight. Thank you.”

Mike took a deep breath. He really couldn’t delay any longer. Evelyn hadn’t provided dessert. “Well, I needed to butter you up a little.” He laughed nervously. “Maybe a lot.”

“I’m not naming this kid Mike Jr. Evelyn already warned me you’d probably want that.” She was smiling, teasing. 

“No, I got you something.” He took the box he’d been carrying around all evening out of his pocket and briefly considered getting down on one knee, but Ginny’s eyes had gone wide and he didn’t really want to have some kind of debate looking up at her from the floor. 

She reached for the box and then pulled back. At the saleswoman’s suggestion, he’d left it just as she’d wrapped it, a robin’s egg blue box with a neat white bow tied on top. “Is Evelyn responsible for this, too? I don’t need jewelry to cheer me up if this doesn’t work.” He could tell she was uncomfortable, and Mike suddenly remembered the guys talking about how their wives expected a gift when they delivered a child. It even had a silly name he couldn’t remember. 

He could explain, but it would be easier if she opened the damn box. “No, this is all me.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed, clearly trying to decide whether to fight him on this or just do as he asked. “But it’s from Tiffany.” She hardly wore any jewelry. The only reason Mike knew her ring size was because her agents kept a list of her sizes for when she did advertisements. 

“Just open it, rookie.” His patience was wearing thin. Mike itched to just take the box and open it himself.

Her mouth opened like she was going to say more, but then she stopped and reluctantly picked up the box. She handled it like a bomb. Well, that wasn’t a great sign. But she did slip off the ribbon and open the box. The black suede box inside earned him another suspicious glance. Mike had earned that after last Christmas, when he’d wrapped an Apple Watch in a box inside nine other boxes.

Mike couldn’t breathe as she tipped the ring box out into her palm. Either he was about to be very happy or totally humiliated. And honestly he wasn’t sure which. For a split second he regretted not letting Evelyn in on the full plan, but that was all the time he had before Ginny opened the box and gasped.

Her gaze stayed fixed on the opened box. Inside was a simple platinum band with a 1.5 carat round diamond flanked by two slightly smaller sapphires. The salesman at Tiffany had tried to talk him into larger stones twice, when he bought it and when he picked up the sized ring, even without knowing who he was. The man insisted that bigger was always better with brides these days, but Mike knew Ginny wouldn’t even wear it that often once she came off the DL. Plus she’d commented more than once about the massive rocks weighing down their teammates’ wives’ hands.  

“Mike,” she finally said in a hushed whisper he couldn’t quite read. One hand went to her belly without her even seeming to notice what she was doing. “You don't have to—”

“Baker, I bought this a year ago.” Mike forced a low chuckle. “You know how hard it is to buy a ring without it ending up on Twitter? I had to wait til I went to Chicago.” 

Ginny nibbled at her lip, still staring at the ring. She made no move to take it out of the box. Clearly she wasn’t going to react the way he’d hoped she would, with excitement and that big, sweet dimpled smile of hers that made him feel invincible. 

Of course not. He’d forgotten to ask the damn question. “Baby or no baby, we’re family, Ginny. You, me, and that overgrown fuzzball probably sleeping on my pillow right now. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Mike took the box from her hand and pulled out the ring, offering it up to her. “Genevieve Baker, will you marry me?”

Ginny’s gaze finally came up to meet his. Her eyes were wide with shock, her lip trembling. Her hand trembled too, as she held it out to him and nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

Mike slipped the ring onto her finger and looked up. His breath stuck in his chest. 

There was the smile. Ginny’s brilliant grin, deep dimples, bright eyes. She gave a little laugh as she looked at him with the sweet, adoring heat that always made him feel like the luckiest man on the planet. He could feel his own grin, knew he looked ridiculous and didn’t care. 

Ginny Baker was going to marry him, and maybe this time next year they’d be holding their baby. Mike had never been so happy in his entire life.

 


End file.
